


but they just don't fit the same

by KaelsMiscellany



Series: absolve your blood stained honor [6]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is an okay parent, F/M, Family Shenanigans, Multi, Some angst, batfamily, but his kids won't let him catch a break, but mostly good times, he's trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 11:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: Bruce hadn't realized how much a life could change in six months without you even being there.Granted, it's nothing compared to the way his life changes only a year afterthat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I thought I was done with this series for at least a month, maybe two. But nooo...
> 
> The blame for this lies solely on Biocopic and odd_izzy, who wanted to see Bruce reacting to how things had changed after his death, and life after adopting Colin, respectively.
> 
> This first part actually takes place only four months after _Moment's Silence_ , I'm however keeping this as part 'six' bc the second chapter is much longer and takes place after.
> 
> I would've started to post this sooner, but it took a while to find a title. So thanks "White Knuckles" by Ok Go.

Things become _fuzzy_ after the fight with the Hyper Adapter and his actual death. But as Bruce slowly comes to he realizes he’s back _home_. Even without opening his eyes he can tell, the feel of Egyptian cotton sheets, the smell of the wood polish Alfred uses and just faintly underneath that the scent of Bruce’s own cologne, the sounds of male voices—Tim and someone else he doesn’t quite know.

When he does open his eyes things are blurry—he doesn’t feel like he has a concussion, perhaps it’s just having been out for who knows how long—it takes a year to turn his head, but when he does he sees Tim talking to a dark haired boy. If Bruce could frown he would. Standing next to the boy though is Cassandra and even in this half-awake state Bruce finds his heart leaping in elation. He doesn’t know what brought her home, but he’s grateful she is.

The strain of trying to overhear whatever conversation Tim and the boy are having wears Bruce out and he finds sleep taking hold once more.

-

Again he awakes, feeling more...awake this time. It’s dark in the room, the only light the bedside lamp. More than enough to see Dick asleep in a chair, sprawled out in a way that Bruce would consider uncomfortable, but is likely cozy for Dick.

Gritting his teeth to stifle any sounds Bruce pushes himself upright. Upright is perhaps as far as he can make himself move on the other hand. Strangely enough the familiar flash of annoyance at being bedridden is comforting. Things are, as Alfred might say, as they should be.

Gleaming in the light is little bell. Bruce finds a soft smile crossing his face as he manages to reach out and ring it. Thankfully Dick’s a deep sleeper and doesn’t wake. Absently Bruce wonders who’ll answer, while he waits he tenses and relaxes his muscles, getting them used to moving again.

Measured footsteps approach, Alfred then. Yet there’s a whisper and then the familiar tones of Cass’ voice. Protestations from Alfred, but Cass’ is insistent. Again Bruce smiles.

When she enters the room Bruce finds himself studying her. The past few years haven’t changed her as much as they might have. Although there’s an ease to her movements that he doesn’t recall from before. She’d always had a grace to her but this is different. There’s also an engagement ring on her finger, a gold band with jet embedded in it, whomever she’s marrying is lucky.

She sets down the tray on the bedside table, and before he can say anything she’s pulling him into a hug. “Missed you,” comes out thick between her tears.

He hugs her back just as tightly. Feeling a few tears of his own slipping out.

Before either of them can pull away another set of arms wraps around the both of them. “You’re having a hug party and didn’t invite me?” Dick tries to sound insulted, but it’s mostly lost in his own tear-rough voice. “I’m hurt.”

Cass laughs and Bruce thinks everything he’s been through might be worth it if there’s more moments like this in his life from now on.

-

It’s been a few days now and Bruce can now make a few easy laps around his room without getting tired—which also means he can go to the bathroom on his own, which is honestly a far greater relief.

At the moment he and Tim are in the little seating area by the windows, Tim catching him up on everything WE related that he’s missed in the past six months.

Six months. It doesn’t feel like that much time’s passed for him, yet it also feels as if _more_ time should’ve passed. A strange paradox Bruce isn’t sure how to resolve. So he tries not to let it bother him—some night’s that’s a losing battle—mostly by throwing himself into learning what he needs to know. People believe he never left Gotham after all, he doesn’t want them to have any doubts.

“...Alvarez is doing fine, but I’ve been thinking we should move him to…” A commotion outside the door cuts Tim off.

“I will not be denied anymore,” the voice is young and imperious, the boy from before Bruce identifies. The door nearly slams open and the boy storms in.

He’s perhaps eleven or twelve, black hair, brown skin, and striking green eyes. He’s carrying a brown and white cat, seeming uncaring of the fur being left behind on his black shirt—Bruce tries not to feel the pang of missing Selina that brings.

He comes to a stop in front Bruce. His expression suggests that while he’d been intent on getting inside the room he doesn’t quite know what to do now that he’s _here_. After a few silent seconds he rolls his shoulders and takes on a haughty expression. “Drake, leave us.”

“Oh my god,” Tim sounds more exasperated than offended. How long has the boy been here? “And here I thought you liked me.”

“I tolerate you Drake,” the boy replies.

Bruce finds himself frowning. Old habits from raising Dick, Jason, and to a lesser extent, Tim, rear their various heads. “Apologize.”

The boy’s taken aback, as is Tim. “Uh, Bruce. Damian’s an ass, but it’s fine.”

It makes Bruce frown, he really should just ask who Damian _is_ , but he finds himself hesitating. As if something in him already knows, but refuses to acknowledge it. Which, when he realizes that, makes him only more determined to ask. “Damian?”

Tim stands. “I think I will see myself out.” He’s gone before Bruce can say anything otherwise.

Damian sighs. “They said you wouldn’t know who I was,” for a change he looks his age, a sort of familiar childish hurt in his voice. “I wish mother hadn’t been so damn stubborn.”

Which only makes Bruce’s frown deepen. Yet before he can say anything another voice speaks up, quite literally. “Damian,” the voice is deep, yet there’s something in it that rings familiar. “Leave Bruce alone dammit!”

Frustration and anger flit across Damian’s face as he turns around. “I’m not going to let you or anyone else stop me anymore from finally meeting my father, Todd!”

“Jesus, kid.” The man who appears in the doorway and marches into the room is eerily familiar. His hair is perhaps shaggier, he’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt instead of motorcycle leathers, there’s a necklace with a robin skull and he’s wearing an engagement ring on his finger that almost matches said necklace; but besides those things he’s a spitting image of Clayface impersonating Jason. If Talia’s claim was true.

Ja-The man picks Damian up by the back of his shirt, giving him a shake as if he were an errant pet. The actual pet Damian’s carrying seems to appreciate this as much as Damian does, giving an angry yowl before leaping out of Damian’s arms and onto the coffee table. In it’s haste to leave it knocks over Tim’s erstwhile cup of coffee and the vase of flowers Clark had sent over.

“Let me go Todd!” Damian squirms and struggles, but Bruce can tell he’s not trying as hard as he could to escape the man’s grip. “Father and I were going to have to meet eventually.”

 _Father_ , this time it actually registers in Bruce’s mind—it had before, true, but then the man’d come in and Bruce’d been distracted. Bruce makes himself study the boy. The black hair doesn’t mean anything really, save that Damian already fits right in with the rest of Bruce’s children, but the dark skin and green eyes take on newer meaning. “Talia.”

The man and Damian both stop in their light-hearted struggle. Setting Damian down the man turns. “I need a fucking drink.”

“Master Jason,” Alfred’s tone is one Bruce knows well. He passes the man, a silver tray with a mug and a towel on it in his hands.

A disgruntled noise leaves the man. “Technically I’m over twenty one Alfred.”

Alfred’s pointed hum follows the man out.

Damian tosses himself into Tim’s vacated seat, accepting the mug Alfred hands him. “Talia is my mother,” he agrees.

It’s easy to go back and pinpoint the year it would have happened, the rest follows. Jason had only died a few months before, Talia’d come into town like a small tornado. Taking him out to dinner and chastising him for his recklessness in the past few months. Not that it had penetrated Bruce’s grief at the time. He recalls drinking far more wine than he should have, Talia and him stumbling back to the Manor.

He’d awoken in the morning to her gone, Alfred commenting that she’d left sometime in the night.

The old memories now bring with them a new train of thoughts, but he shoves them aside, doing his best to ignore the roiling in his stomach. He can deal with what possibly happened to him later, now it seems he has another son to look after. “How...long have you been here?” Long enough it seems.

“Since your supposed funeral,” Damian answers. “Although I’d left mother’s side a few months before then, thanks to Slade,” Damian snears.

Bruce recalls Talia mentioning that too, during Hush. “Is that really…” Bruce wishes he could finish the question.

“Master Jason?” Alfred, bless him, seems unruffled as always. “Yes Master Bruce it is. Things here have changed far more than you think they have. For the better I would say.” A smile hangs about his mouth as he straightens the bouquet.

“Of course they’ve changed for the better,” that haughty tone of Damian’s is back. “ _I’m_ here now, and now that you’ve returned I can be Robin in true.”

The words catch Bruce off guard, oh it’s no surprise Damian already knows he’s Batman, Talia probably wouldn’t have had it any other way. But that Bruce hasn’t quite thought of returning to Batman just yet. Alfred would perhaps be pleased to know Bruce feels fragile, needing to find his footing before he can fully return to his own life.

“I think that is enough for now Master Damian,” picking the tray back up Alfred heads for the door. “Come along, there will be plenty more time for you to get to know your father in the coming days.”

Surprisingly Damian gets up and follows, closing the door behind them.

Damian, Jason _alive_ —Talia’d been right then, but how had she _known?_ —himself and Talia…

His whole body seems to ache as he climbs back into bed. He feels tears leave him, but he doesn’t know quite who he’s crying for.

-

Over the next few days Bruce is determined to speak with Jason, yet every time he asks it seems Jason is pointedly absent.

“The construction thing’s taking up a lot of his time,” Dick offers up. It feels like an excuse, but Bruce stomachs it.

Nevermind the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth that Jason seems happy to _live_ here, but also seems to have no interest in reconnecting with _him_. “Construction?” He hasn’t quite caught up on everything yet, and he’s begun to realize why Tim always side-stepped any questions about the family.

“He bought his old building,” Tim answers, not looking up from his laptop. “He claims he’s only restoring it, but I’m also pretty sure they just tore the whole damn thing down and are starting from scratch.”

Oh. Bruce doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. He’s proud of Jason, and understands why he’s doing it. But it’s not as if it’s something that would require his _input_. It leaves him feeling even more disconnected from his middle son. “I see,” is about as diplomatic as he can be.

A welcome distraction comes in the form of Cass and Alfred. “Lunch,” Cass’ smile is broad.

-

_...slick pearls pouring from his hands faster than he can grab them…_

Bruce awakes with a start. There’s a nightmare he hasn’t had in a very long time. He still mourns his parents true, but his life after their deaths has provided him with far more nightmares. With a soft groan he climbs out of bed and goes to the windows, opening one and letting the cool March air dry his sweat soaked body as his thoughts meander.

A pained groan breaks through his thoughts.

At first Bruce thinks the sound came from him, yet now that he’s paying attention he hears it again, softer this time.

Without thought Bruce follows the sounds, all the way to a closed door. Thankfully the Manor hasn’t changed as much as his family, although there seems to be far more chairs and benches scattered about than he recalls. Again, perhaps not thinking as much as he should, he bursts in.

Cass, and Jason, naked in bed together. Both staring at him in aghast. Bruce starting to realize he’s interrupted them having sex.

It should’ve occurred to him, but he’d been perhaps thinking Jason too much like the teenager he’d once been. Only on the cusp of discovering about sex and people. The very Batman part of him points out that considering Jason’s handcuffed to the bed he’s very past _discovering_ sex and people. Bruce tries to purge that thought from his mind.

“Sorry.”

As he closes the door Cass’ laughter follows him.

-

In the morning he makes himself go downstairs. Alfred is sitting with Cass, while Tim drinks his coffee and reads the newspaper with his usual single-minded intensity. It’s easy enough to spot Jason at the stovetop, even if he weren’t the tallest person in the family now.

Not letting himself second-guess this, he might not get another chance, Bruce goes right to Jason. “Jason…”

Who turns and attempts to be threatening with a spatula—to middling success. “This better not be some sort of safe sex talk. I got a vasectomy and Cass’ on the pill, so I think we’re damn good.”

The two of them haven’t talked at all since he’d realized Jason wasn’t dead, and Jason thinks their first real conversation is going to be a _sex talk_? He watches Jason slide his omelette from the pan to his plate, sort of stunned and unsure what to say.

“Cat got your tongue?” Bruce _knows_ Jason’s doing it on purpose, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get to him.

“Would you just shut up and let me talk!” The whole kitchen falls silent with his outburst.

Broken what seems like an eternity later by Alfred. “I think perhaps we should leave,” his tone brooks no argument and he’s soon ushering Tim and Cass out. Leaving Bruce and Jason alone.

Which is both good and bad.

Jason’s glare is clearly attempting to burn holes in Bruce, while Bruce himself is starting to feel _tired_ —physically and emotionally. He’ll likely get chewed out for it later but he pushes through, wanting to at least _try_ to make things better between them.

Which is why when the idea pops in his head he doesn’t try to second guess it. “Come on.”

“What?” Jason’s all anger and bluster and it’s aching how familiar it is.

“We’re going to talk somewhere else.” He turns and heads out of the kitchen, hoping that Jason’s angry and curious enough to follow.

“I hope to god you’re not gonna chew me out in the Cave.” Before Bruce can even respond he can hear Jason asking Cass to make sure Tim eats the omelette Jason made. It’s a good thing he’s not facing towards them, he doesn’t think Jason would like the fond smile on his face; always nice when his children look out for each other.

“Not the Cave,” he finally answers. Shoving his feet into a pair of shoes he grabs a coat out of the closet, uncaring he’s still in his pajamas—he’s sure within the hour there’ll be a million posts wondering why Bruce Wayne looks a mess, but Jason’s more important.

Beyond leaving the Manor looking half a fright he probably shouldn’t be driving, but he’s never let that stop him before. Honestly he’s just grateful that Jason’s still tagging along, anger and bemusement warring across his face as Bruce drives them downtown.

48th and Lansing comes sooner than Bruce remembers it being, but like always Hal & Sal’s is there. Even this early in the morning Sal’s there with a smile on his face. “Two chili dogs with everything,” Bruce orders without thinking. He also pretends not to notice Jason slipping two hundred dollar bills in the tip jar.

“Sure thing Mr. Wayne.”

Five minutes later Bruce and Jason are on a nearby bench, eating with mostly single-minded focus. “How’s...the construction going?” It’s not the question he wants to ask, but perhaps it’s safer to start with.

“Alright,” Jason answers slowly. Bruce can tell Jason’s anger is still there, but he’s been thrown for a loop by the whole situation. A fact Bruce is not ashamed to admit he’ll take ruthless advantage of right now. “Still got a few more months before I can move all the old tenants back in, but we just finished with the insulation and the wiring.”

Bruce eats his chili dog—he normally wouldn’t eat such things, but he could argue right now he needs all the calories he could get—mentally choosing his next words carefully. “How…” All those carefully chosen words dry up in his mouth.

Jason makes a sort of grunt as he finishes his bite. “How does anything in this weird-ass world happen? I died and then five years ago I wasn’t, although according to Talia I wasn’t what you’d call...thinking.” Finishing off his chili dog Jason crumples up the wrapper in his hands. “According to her and the people at the facility I was at before she scooped me up I’d eat and sleep and take basic care of myself, fight if I was attacked, but I wouldn’t speak or write or do much more than exist.”

Bruce wants to reach out and touch Jason, hold him in some way, but he holds back. Jason wasn’t like Dick to just accept touch, Bruce would have to be careful.

“She threw me in a Pit against Ra’s wishes and I barely had a chance to get dressed before I had to go on the run. Even if Ra’s wanted me dead I at least had Talia’s resources and help to draw on if I needed it. She gave me fake IDs and pointed me towards people I could learn from,” he shrugs. “Course I didn’t know it at the time but after a few months I could’ve, you know, settled _down_ if I wanted to, since she and Nyssa killed Ra’s.”

Bruce remembers that. How would it have gone if he’d known then Jason was alive? If he’d thought to check the coffin sooner? He shakes his head, dwelling on ‘what ifs’ from years ago wouldn’t help him now. He does want to ask more questions, but he fears speaking will stop Jason from opening up.

“Did that for a few years, till Cass found me in London. She brought me back to her hideout in Tibet and asked for my help in getting in contact with Talia to try and broker a reconciliation.” Bruce at least doesn't have to ask the _why_ of that, Cass’d already told him about what Slade did to her and what she’d done with the League. “Slade happened, and Cass, Damian, and I ran to Oregon and holed up for the next few months. Few months later we saw the report of your death and we came back. Not much more to it than that.”

Except there’s so much more Bruce wants to know, Jason’s certainly left a lot out.

He won’t push on it...yet. “Have you been avoiding me?”

“Eh,” is the unsatisfactory answer Bruce gets. Jason twists slightly, aim, and tosses his garbage into the nearby can. It’s a perfect shot, not even grazing the sides. “Tim and I went a whole month without any sort of conversation after we met. So it’s not like you’re special.”

Bruce lets himself pinch the bridge of his nose. “Jason, that’s…”

“Not good?’ Sarcasm fills his voice. “I got him to show me the video eventually, scary how good Clayface is.”

“That’s not you.” Even if they haven’t interacted much the ways Dick and Tim talk about Jason are mostly good, and Cass wouldn’t just marry _anyone_.

Jason laughs. “Oh I needed that.” Bruce does his best to let the flare of anger pass through him. “It definitely is fucking me Bruce. I’m maybe not _that_ bad anymore, but probably only because of Cass and Damian.” He turns to look at Bruce, blue eyes cold. “I mean there’s still a sliver of me that wants you dead Bruce, and I don’t know if it’ll ever go away.”

He looks away, hands staring at his fists instead. Bruce isn’t sure what to say himself. “And I still want to kill the Joker. ‘Course he’s been MIA since you ‘died’, Harley thinks he might’ve killed himself. The only bad thing about that is I wasn’t there to see the fucker brought that low.”

The anger isn’t shocking, the flavor of it might be different, but it’s the same sort of anger that’d been in Jason during the whole Garzonas fiasco. Good people were being hurt and all the ways of helping he could think of weren’t doing anything. “Jason...lad…” Bruce does it slowly, but he still reaches out and puts a hand over Jason’s fists.

“I’m...sorry I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be.” Time travel and an actual, if brief, death have taught Bruce that perhaps he needs to be more forgiving with his family. That they’re not all just copies of himself. That he needs to start treating them as the people they are instead of what he wants them to be.

Under his touch Jason stills, but doesn't pull away. It’s perhaps a small victory, but right now it’s more than Bruce could ask for.

-

When they do finally make it back to the Manor Bruce is far too tired to try and manage something as dastardly as stairs. So he ends up slumped on a couch in the small living room. Not even protesting when Alfred comes in and fusses, starting a fire and leaving a cup of coffee and a plate of sandwiches.

Still fairly full from the chili dog he only nibbles on a sandwich, but the coffee is a warming comfort.

He’s starting to drift off to sleep when the door opens, Damian and another cat—this one nearly all white with a dark brown sock on one foot and a matching tail—enter. “Father?” The boy’s voice is quiet, as if he doesn’t want to wake Bruce if his is sleeping. His knuckles pale a little as he grips the sketchbook and pencil box in his hands tighter.

The cat doesn’t seem to feel the same hesitation Damian does, marching right up to Bruce and joining him on the couch, finding his hip an apparently good place to curl up. “Lady Macbeth,” Damian hisses.

“It’s fine,” Bruce answers. He most certainly prefers dogs, but he doubts Damian will give up the cats—and how many exactly _did_ he have? He can’t sit upright, but he does shift as best he can, bearing the small pains of cat claws digging in. “What’s up?”

Damian doesn’t answer right away, clutching the sketchbook tighter to him, as if torn between protecting it and using it as a shield. Bruce’s known Damian drew for a few days now, Dick’d let it slip, but the boy so far hasn’t seemed willing to share—Cass’d told him this was nothing new, Damian wasn’t ashamed of his art but he also didn’t seem interested in showing it off to others. Perhaps that’s changed now.

“I had thought...we could talk while I draw.” The words are carefully measured.

The coffee when Bruce picks it up is cooler than he likes it, but that doesn’t stop him from taking a sip. “I’d like that Damian.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part takes place about a year after _stealing our own place in the sun_.
> 
> Also I forgot to mention it last chapter, but this two-parter owes something of a debt to irnan's [old haunts](https://archiveofourown.org/series/61411) series (which if you haven't read it you really should).

“Hey,” the accountant Bruce is now ignoring in lieu of talking to Jason makes a face. “I know it’s super last minute, but could you pick up Colin for me at GA after school?”

The question _is_ last minute considering the time. “Sure,” he and Damian have their art thing, but they could swing by and pick up Colin on the way there. “Any reason you can’t?” He asks more out of curiosity than anything else.

There’s a sigh from Jason, and Bruce can picture the way his second son runs a hand through his hair. “There’s a seminar I’ve got to take for my business class, been putting it off because of theater stuff, but today’s the last day I can take it.” And Cass was currently helping the Outsiders with a mission, Bruce knew.

“Aren’t you taking on a bit much?” Bruce feels he’s got the right to wonder that at least. Two majors and a minor’s a lot. Even if he’s already halfway done with all of them.

“You’re joking right?” Jason’s voice is sarcastic. “If I were stressed Bruce you’d know, trust me.” Bruce isn’t sure he wants to know what a stressed Jason now looks like. “It’s easy enough to handle it all, just takes some juggling, which is no problem for me.” Apparently.

Stepping away from that then. “Damian and I’ll pick Colin up.” Perhaps it’s time he started insisting that Damian actually go to school. The boy’d refused so far, citing that he’d been taking college level classes since he was five. On the other hand he could stand to be forced to spend a few hours among kids his own age, if only to learn how to act around them.

“Thanks,” Jason hangs up. Leaving Bruce to deal with the annoyed accountant.

-

Alfred’d sent him on a cookie delivering/picking up Damian mission, but when Bruce steps onto Jason and Cass’ floor it’s to find Cass sitting outside the apartment, appearing calm and reading a book. Making him wonder if Alfred had ulterior motives.

“Is something wrong?” Bruce’s almost afraid to ask, which doesn’t make any sense.

Cass looks up from her book and gives a haughty sniff. “Your sons and grandson are being ridiculous.”

Before he can even ask what _that_ means there’s a sound of a small explosion coming from inside the apartment, followed by boyish laughter and Jason’s squawking: “shit!”

“I’m fairly sure they’re related to you too,” Bruce finally manages. His brain somehow having just processed what she’s said. Oh Lord, he’s not even forty-five and he has a _grandchild_ — _two_ even, considering Mar’i. Nevermind that his motley collection of sons and daughters were never his before they hit ten.

“They’re my husband, son, and brothers when they’re behaving. At this rate we’re going to have to remodel the kitchen again.”

Bruce decides discretion is the better part of valor, and so won’t point out that she’s not doing anything to _stop_ them. In an actual act of bravery—that in a way is laughable considering what he does at night—he decides to go _into_ the apartment.

Jason, Damian, Colin, and Tim are all surrounding the kitchen island. Despite Cass’ comment about having to remodel there’s not actually much in the way of damage to the surrounding areas. Except for shards of glass everywhere.

The good thing is that at least everyone’s wearing goggles, if nothing else in the way of safety equipment.

Perhaps the not good thing is that there’s a glass dish of water on on the island, and Tim’s holding in a pair of tongs a fairly dull metal. “What exactly are you doing?”

All four of them whip around, varying expressions of guilt on their faces. “We’re learning about alkali metals father,” Damian answers. Which was pretty much the answer Bruce was afraid of at this point. “Drake was kind enough to bring over samples for us to use.”

Bruce is fairly sure he knows where exactly Tim got those samples and there’s going to have to be a chat about misappropriating WE’s R&D supplies.

“Why exactly?” He’s not sure he appreciates sounding like a tired father, although he’s smart enough not to try and rub his temples. Didn’t do to show weakness in front of his children and...grandchild. Bruce isn’t sure he’s going to get much sleep tonight.

“I’m trying to figure out what to do for my science experiment,” Colin answers. He’s started to pick up Damian’s habit of being unphased by his elder’s bafflement and annoyance. A trait that’s both good and bad.

“Things kind of got a little out of hand,” Jason finishes. A _little_?

“I think your wife would argue otherwise,” Bruce responds. “Alfred sends cookies.” He can at least complete his mission, as superfluous as it feels now. “Damian, we need to go home.” The lack of Damian might actually temper the others enthusiasm for scientific destruction. The Batman part of him points out that’s not likely when Tim’s involved.

Damian sighs but slides off his chair, taking off his goggles. “Yes father.”

Colin follows suit, managing to catch Damian off guard with a brief hug. “See you later Damian. I’ll make sure there’s video of the volcano when we set it off.” Volcano? Bruce finds he doesn’t want to know.

“How much calcium can you get us Timbo?”

“Probably not as much as you’re hoping Jason.”

Why they need calcium is beyond Bruce. In the end he decides he’s just relieved they’re not doing this in the Manor.

-

It’s getting close to the dawn of Saturday. The night had been long and tough, but it’s nice to take a moment and just admire the city as she is.

Sitting on the rooftop next to him Damian and Colin drink from the slurpies Jason bought them, Colin showing off his bright green tongue every so often. Behind them Jason’s got a dopey smile on his face, at odds with his costume and usual mein as Blackbird, but it’s a better look on him.

With no one else around Bruce allows himself a small smile of his own.  Glad that his family is getting better.

“You should come back with us Colin,” Damian's own tongue is blue.

Colin grins and turns to look behind him at Jason. “Can I?” Bruce can all but hear ‘dad’ tacked onto the end of the sentence and something long put aside aches in him.

Jason reaches out a hand, the red and yellow palm disappearing in Colin’s own red hair. “Maybe next time kiddo, you already promised you’d help me watch Mar’i so Dick and Kori can take Babs to her ultrasound.”

Bruce would normally frown at the use of names while out in public, but Jason’s also reminded him of why Oracle hasn’t been on comms tonight—out of all his ‘family’ her and his relationships is perhaps the most tenuous, but he’s glad she’s back in Gotham and working with him. Dick probably knows what he’s doing, but it looks baffling on Bruce’s end.

“Sorry Robin,” Colin’s expression is forlorn.

“There will be other times,” is Damian’s pragmatic answer. “Anyways I still need to beat your high score in Cheese Viking.”

Colin laughs hard enough slurpie comes out his nose, which can’t be comfortable in the least. “Good luck with that.”

Damian looks like he’s going to protest but Bruce lets himself step in, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Back to the Cave for us I think.” The dawn’s truly started to set in.

Robin sighs, but follows as he drops down to the Batmobile.

-

“...if I ever see you, or any of your nazi scum-fucker friends around here again,” Bruce should perhaps be worried that Damian’s impression of Jason is nigh perfect. Nevermind the cursing— _that’s_ a losing battle Bruce is afraid. “Then I’m gonna piss on your pants and eat your goddamn hearts in the marketplace.” It’s apparently also a losing battle to try and convince Jason to not be so...out there with his threats.

Both Damian and Colin mime tossing someone. “Now get the fuck off my property!” Damian finishes. Colin cups his hands around his mouth and makes what Bruce thinks is supposed to be distant crowd cheering noises.

They look at him expectantly, clearly wanting a reaction to their far more...eventful afternoon than Bruce expected.

“Quite the excitement then,” Alfred responds for him. “I do hope miss Barros is alright.”

Colin bobs his head. “Yeah, Cass took her and her parents to Leslie’s clinic to get looked after.” Bruce is glad Colin feels some pride in his ‘parents’. Bruce is proud himself, if he perhaps wishes Jason and Cass weren’t so...honestly he’s not quite sure.

He makes a note to look into the man who assaulted the girl, putting the fear of Batman into him and his compatriots wouldn’t hurt.

-

“You need to talk to him Bruce,” Cass’ tone is quiet, but much like Alfred, she tended to be far more frightening when she was quiet.

Bruce shifts his hold on his phone so he can pinch the bridge of his nose. “I will,” he promises. Faintly over the line he can hear Tchaikovsky’s _Nutcracker Suite_ , considering Jason’s moratorium on Christmas music before Thanksgiving it’s a little out of place. “What’s going on?”

Just as faintly he hears a door close, the music cutting off. “Jason’s watching _Fantasia_ with Colin to try and cheer him up.” He hears a _thwump_ , likely his daughter falling onto the bed. “I’m not sure Colin’s gonna want to see Damian until he apologizes.”

If Bruce weren’t already still pinching his nose, he’d do it again now. Perhaps it’d been foolish to think the two boys would never argue, but Colin was so easy going that sometimes you could forget he had boundaries.

Something he doubts Damian is going to forget again.

“I’ll talk to him,” Bruce repeats. “Make sure he even means the apology,” a much harder feat if Bruce is honest. Yet when it comes to Colin it might not be.

“Good,” he can imagine Cass’ decisive nod. “I’d better go back and be with them. Call me in the morning?”

“Yes, I’ll call.” Hopefully he’ll have good news.

Hanging up he takes a few deep, calming breaths and stands, having a good idea of where to find Damian.

It’s not the Cave, but the small living room seems to be one of Damian’s favorite spots. He finds his son curled up in the bench seat with Titus, Lucien, and Ophelia. He’s wearing headphones and his focus is clearly on his sketchbook, the strokes of his charcoal broad and sharp.

Bruce is sure Damian knows the moment he takes the other side of the bench, but doesn’t acknowledge him until after he pointedly clears his throat.

Jerking off his headphones Damian lets them drop to the floor, the action leaving a smear of charcoal on his cheek. “Yes father?” It might be an actual question, but Damian’s snipping tone makes it hard to take it as one.

“Do you realize why Colin is angry at you?” It’s perhaps a strange question, but over the past year or so Bruce’s realized that his youngest can be...unwilling to see his own flaws and how his actions might have consequences. Thank God he’s getting _better_ , but sometimes it’s an uphill battle.

Damian’s expression is unimpressed. “Maya might have training father, but _her_ father’s Nobody, and while he is not the best assassin in the League it’s also likely mother could have hired him to kill _you._  So I’m not exactly going to be enthused about her trying to infiltrate us.”

It’s perhaps not the thought Bruce wants to think, but what pops into his head is Jason’s offhand comment about how fucked up this family is. Granted he has something of a point when Damian can calmly talk about his mother trying to kill his father—nevermind this not being the first time.

And while Damian might have a point about Maya’s motives, that doesn’t make it fair to _Colin_. “You know if you had come to us earlier there might be some members of the family wondering if _you_ were infiltrating this family.” It’s perhaps cruel to say, but it’s something of a truth. Talia’s wanted him dead for a few years now, and she also knows Bruce’s soft spot for lonely, broken children.

“I would never!” Outrage flashes across Damian’s face. “I may have been raised an al Ghul, but it’s been made abundantly clear in the past year that I am a Wayne.”

“So then you can always trust blood? I’ll make sure to tell Slade that the next time I see him.”

The outrage doesn’t die off, but it turns sullen.”I don’t trust her.”

Bruce gives a small sigh and shifts closer, doing his best not to make a face when Lucien climbs onto his lap, putting a hand on Damian’s knee. “You’ve told me and Colin that you think she’s going to betray him, but I think perhaps you’re scared of losing Colin.”

“I am not,” Damian answers a bit too quickly. His body gone still.

It’s not _sad_ that Damian tries not to show he can care for people, just very telling. Bruce isn’t sure he can ever really break Damian of those thought processes either. “Damian. You’re not going to lose Colin just because he has a new friend. People can be friends, good friends even, with more than one person. I don’t see you worried all that much about losing Lian.”

Damian huffs. “I would not call her and I _friends_.”

Bruce gives him a flat look, unsure of why Damian’s adamant on that. “And if you’re right about Maya than we’ll deal with it when it comes to that, and in the aftermath Colin has good people to fall back on to help him get through it.” It might make Bruce feel _old_ sometimes, but he’s glad Jason and Cass are good parents—even if a part of him is still wary over Colin calling Harley and Ivy his ‘aunties’.

“Father…” Damian at a loss for words is nothing new. But at least Bruce is certain _his_ words got through to the boy.

He squeezes Damian’s knee. “You can’t control the lives of everyone around you Damian, we all have the right to make our own choices, good and bad. We can try and help people from making bad choices, but they should still be able to make that choice, and we shouldn’t let ourselves get so caught up in it that we keep them from making good choices too.” Hmmm, perhaps he should try to write that down.

Another huff, although this one is more amused than angry Bruce thinks. “If you say so father. I guess I need to apologize to Colin don’t I?”

“Yes,” Bruce answers firmly. “And when you do it _don’t_ try to use it to convince him one way or the other about Maya, understand?”

Damian doesn’t answer right away, his gaze on his sketchbook but Bruce isn’t sure he sees whatever he’d been drawing before. “He’s allowed to make bad decisions, even if I don’t like it.” There’s perhaps a petulant note to it, but right now Bruce’ll take it.

-

Bruce walks from the front door of the Manor towards the noisy kitchen, to find it in a state of controlled chaos. Seemingly all his children and more besides crammed into the space, tossing each other things and joking, and making something of a mess.

It’s apparently enough that even Alfred’s stepped aside. Bruce finds himself joining him. “What’s going on?”

“It is, apparently, movie night.” Warm fondness fills his voice.

Bruce feels it too, it’s been a while since they had a family movie night. Even with the nostalgic warmth his feels a flash of panic when Dick tosses the tub of Ovaltine at Tim’s head, only for it to be caught by Steph. “Rude,” she blows a raspberry.

“He would’ve caught it,” is Dick’s defense apparently. Bruce isn’t too sure on that.

“Those milkshakes better be done soon, or it’s gonna take us three hours just to get everything ready,” Jason doesn’t sound too put out.

“They’ll be ready,” Cass says at the same time Tim snarks: “cool your jets dude.”

Bruce huffs. “Perhaps we’d better make a withdrawal old friend. The TV room?” He’s not going to pass this up now that he knows about it.

“I’m sure miss Barbara would enjoy the company,” Alfred replies.

When they get there it’s to find she’s already claimed the comfiest chair in the room, not that Bruce will begrudge her it. The main menu for _The Fellowship of the Ring_ is already up—Bruce guesses he can spare five hours if they’re planning on doing all three at once—filling the room with sweeping music.

Barbara looks up from her tablet with a smile. “Strategic retreat?”

“Quite so, miss Barbara.” Bruce would like to argue, but isn’t sure he can.

Even if he did manage to think of a good argument why this _wasn’t_ a retreat, a hoard of footsteps and voices approaches, pretty much derailing any sort of conversation.

“Kon I know you’ve got TTK, but please be careful with the milkshakes.”

“Don’t worry babe, I got this.”

“I don’t see why we _all_ have to watch this movie.”

“ _Movies_.” Bruce’d been right about that then. “First of all their amazing, second who _doesn’t_ want nine hours of the epitome of sweeping high fantasy?”

_Nine hours?_

Not that Bruce gets much chance to dwell on it, the hoard entering the room and jockeying for seats. Bruce himself ending up on a couch next to Damian and Tim. The lights get turned off and the conversation dies down as the movie begins.

-

Perhaps some part of Bruce knew it was going to come to this, but he’d still had hopes that it wouldn’t.

At least the walls around the Manor are high enough that there won’t be any prying eyes.

In the yard a few feet away from the pool Damian and Maya glare daggers at each other. Colin between them looking tired, but determined. Bruce can sympathize.

Meanwhile next to Bruce himself Cass and Jason are watching, their own expressions unreadable. Perhaps they’re regretting agreeing to this, or perhaps bracing themselves for the worst. Not that Bruce would blame them considering.

“Are you two really just going to keep glaring at each other?” Colin sounds exasperated.

Bruce isn’t sure he likes that Jason and Cass seem happy to let Colin deal with this on his own, there had to be a way _one_ adult could mediate. Even if it might teach all three kids something useful.

Maya’s haughty sniff is quite a lot like Damian’s, although Bruce isn’t sure either would appreciate him pointing it out. “He started it.”

“You are clearly the epitome of maturity, ‘he started it,’” Damian sneers.

Which is about enough for Bruce. He takes a step forward, only to be stopped by Cass. “Cass…” Trying to let the kids deal with their own problems is all fine and good, but there is such a thing as trying too hard.

“No.”

“Fine,” Colin throws his hands up in a very Jason-like way. “If you two are going to be asses and beat each other up first I’m not going to stop you.” Bruce isn’t sure that’s the best idea. “But we _will_ be working this out today.” It’s strange to hear Colin be so firm, his tone suggesting neither of them will like what might happen if they don’t.

“Think you could take me without your fancy suit?” Bruce isn’t even surprised by Damian’s challenge at this point.

Maya laughs. “Ha! Like you could take me without _your_ suit.”

“ _I_ was trained to be the perfect assassin, you and your father rely too much on your technology.”

Damian’s comment earns him barred teeth from Maya, who charges a moment later. Bruce exhales slowly and tries to get past Cass again to break up the scuffle.

Only to be stopped again. “Them fighting it out is not going to solve anything.”

Jason snorts while Cass rolls her eyes. “I recall Alfred talking about your first encounter with Superman saying otherwise. And hey, you and I turned out okay.” That’s not as encouraging as Jason thinks it is.

Colin meanwhile seems unsurprised that his two friends are fighting, like they mean it even from what Bruce can make out. For a second he thinks Colin is going to shift into Abuse and bring them both to task. Although it might not be as effective as Colin would want it to be. Instead he sighs and goes over to Jason. “Can we see if Alfred’s done with the scones?”

“Sure thing kiddo,” Jason scoops Colin up with ease, settling the boy on his shoulders.

Bruce watches them go, utterly baffled. “We should stop this.” He’s pretty sure he saw a tooth go flying.

“No,” Cass repeats, she sounds more fond than indomitable. “I say we just let them beat the shit out of each other. Damian’s enjoying it anyways.”

Narrowing his eyes Bruce tries to see it, but even with all his training he can’t help to rival Cass’. “Fighting won’t solve the problem.”

“No, but it’ll knock Damian off his high horse some. I do love him, but he can be insufferable sometimes.” Oh Bruce knows, but he also knows better than to _say_ it. He at least knows that much.

A loud splash breaks through the conversation. Bruce looking over to the pool just in time to see Maya and Damian’s heads pop up. Only for them to start flinging water at each other like actual children.

Cass gives his chest a light push. “You need to let Damian make bad decisions too Bruce.” Her tone is arch.

A grunt leaves him, not quite pleased with his own advice being turned against him like that. But he does finally lets her push him back towards the house.

-

The roller rink is bright and hot and Bruce feels weirdly conspicuous as he makes his way over to where the rest of the family is. Oh, he knows there are quite a few people staring, he _is_ Bruce Wayne after all, but it’s more the location than the stares.

“Hey,” Tim’s smile has a breathless quality to it. “Glad you could make it!” He scoots closer to Kon, who shuffles over the cardboard sign at their feet so it doesn’t get squashed in the process.

Tim’s greeting sets off a round of ‘hi’s’ and ‘hello’s’, Jason, Colin and Maya—who barely looks even worse for wear after her fight last week with Damian—all three of them wearing Hellarina jerseys in support of Cass. Dick, Babs, and Mar’i—who flies over to him and babbles in her childish way. Ending with a stilted and formal “hello Bruce,” from Ivy, who looks even more out of place than Bruce feels.

It seems Bruce arrived just in time however, the lights over the crowd dimming and the announcer starting up, Mar’i seems happy to stay with him so he settles her on his shoulder so she can watch. “Get ready folks for the bout of the century! It’s your own Gotham City Sirens versus the Long Island Furriers!”

Both sides of the crowd go wild and it’s surprisingly easy to get swept up in. Bruce not even rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of some of the names—granted even with his rare attendance he’s been fairly inoculated from having Cass and Steph talk about it often enough at family dinners.

Even so he feels a brief pang when Selina—alright, the Duchess of Slay—rolls out. He misses her, but considering the scratches she’d left in their last encounter he’s been leaving her be.

“...and introducing Harpoon!” A young woman with a blue mohawk rolls out, nervous but intent. Steph’s talked about Harper before, how she’s got a real talent. Bruce tries not to read into that more than necessary, he doesn’t exactly feel the need to bring _more_ people into his strange ‘family.’

As the opposing team gets their intros Bruce finds himself booing with the rest of the family. The team’s from New York after all, that clearly makes them inferior.

“Now let’s skate!”

-

The Justice League Fourth of July barbecue is always an interesting experience.

He might be overly paranoid, but over the years even that’s been worn down by teasing from his...friends. Meaning instead of the full suit he only wears fairly nondescript clothes and sunglasses.

Granted with all the ‘care’ his children take it feels fairly pointless. Hard to pretend he’s _not_ Bruce Wayne when you’ve got the likes of Dick and Cass just introducing themselves left and right to any new members there might be.

“It’s good to see you again Bruce,” Diana’s all smiles as she loops an arm around his shoulders. “You and the family are doing well I hope?” The arch of her eyebrow suggests she already knows the answer—probably from Dick—but asks anyways because it’s polite.

He makes a sound he refuses to classify as a sigh. “I’m not quite sure I’ve got the hang of being a grandparent.” The only real reason he’s remotely comfortable admitting that is because it’s Diana.

Which doesn’t mean she doesn’t laughs, but at least he knows it’s not _at_ him—which is why he’s never _ever_ going to tell Ollie and Hal, Wally and Barry are debatable. “I’m fairly sure that’s not something someone can ‘get’ the hang of.” Bruce feels that might be a lie. “Colin, Mar’i and Jamie seem to be doing well enough.” Yes, Dick’s as over the moon about Jamie as he’d been about Mar’i, the one year old herself seemingly transfixed by her little brother.

“One could argue that I haven’t had much to do with any of that.”

Diana gives him _a look_. “You helped raise most of their parents Bruce, that’s not something to take lightly.” Her one armed hug is comforting. “I know it’s difficult for you to admit but could’ve done worse.”

Oh he knows, but there’s always the little voice in his head that says he could’ve done _better_.

Kon, with Steph on his shoulders, floats up a little over the crowd. The megaphone in Steph’s hand is...worrying. “Heeeyyyy everyone,” conversations die away as her enhanced voice fills the air. “So this maybe isn’t the right place to do it, buutttt the three of us decided we might as well just get it over with.” Now Bruce knows why Tim’s not with them, he might play it well enough in front of Gotham, but he’s never really liked the attention of huge crowds.

“So! I’m pregnant! There, I said it.” The tail end of her statements sounds less enthusiastic than the first part.

Even so the silence that fills the space is enough that even he hears the creaking crack of a picnic table. Soon followed by Diana’s laughter. “I think you should go see Clark,” there’s a somewhat sly look on her face. “I think he’ll need some advice.”

All Bruce can do is groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A) Don't try putting alkali metals in water at home please, just try to content yourself with watching the YT videos. Also Colin's 'volcano' eventually ends up being a calcium and fire volcano, which is visually more impressive than just a plain old baking soda one.  
> B) I definitely feel Maya and Colin would be friends, which would make Damian jealous. (also he's weird about him and Lian being considered friends bc he thinks of her as a fellow assassin (even if she doesn't have the training) and that makes her an 'ally' to him.)  
> C) Even though I never actually mention them I did come up with names for Kate and Steph: Katie Pain and the Iron Waffler. Harley herself just goes by Harley Quinn, because why let a good name like that go to waste? Helena however proved more difficult. (also their walk-on song is definitely "Worship" by Lizzo)  
> The Long Island Furriers aren't a real team, just a reference to a book series.  
> D) Jamie's name is actually James, but Babs insisted everyone call him Jamie to avoid any ounce of confusion.
> 
> Alright, I think I'm done for real now atm. I do have one more story planned, but it seems content to wait so I can actually go onto other things now...


End file.
